


Written in Runes

by ALOrated



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fantasy, M/M, Magic, Vampires, Werewolves, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:14:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22022389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALOrated/pseuds/ALOrated
Summary: People speak of a mysterious forest filled with all manners of creatures, only navigable to being of magic and mystery. A place where human men go to disappear, and a place where monsters are banished for being instruments of the devil.Alexander Hamilton has a lot on his mind. So, armed with his blanket, books, and a wand, he walks off into the forest in hopes of finding a place he can finally be free. What he doesn't expect is to find friends and lovers there -- in a place more mystical than evil, and in a place where everyone has been hurt before and gone to seek happiness.He just hopes they'll all be able to find it, himself included.
Relationships: Aaron Burr/Hercules Mulligan, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson, John Laurens/Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette, Lots of friendships because we're all friends here, Possibly more or different ships TBA on request
Comments: 30
Kudos: 62





	1. The Man in the Forest

Alexander hefted his bag over his shoulder once more, feeling the damp paper map crumble in his hands. Gritting his teeth, he folded it over once, twice, then shoved what remained of the smudged ink and soggy paper into his front coat pocket.

It was official: he was lost.

He wasn’t  _ supposed _ to be lost. He had done his research, spent many an evening pouring over his old books by candlelight to guide his way. If the old legends rang true -- and in his experience, they often had a tendency to do just that -- then this “forest” should have been strangely welcoming to people like  _ him _ . He had even taken extra precautions with his travels, although he had been forced to pack only what could be carried in one trip, lacking in horse or mule as he was. To be sure he was set on the right path, he had flitted among the villages bordering the massive forest, lodging in taverns, and carefully pulling the great wood into his threads of conversation. He would ask what they knew of the place, what superstitions they held. And the answer was always the same: a layman could wander the edges of the wood, blazing trails and hunting for pheasants in the underbrush. But journey further in, where the vines twisted to form maze-like walls and the thick boughs of the trees wove together to blot out the sun, and it was unlikely you’d make it out the same. Wander deep enough in, and any normal human would find their mind fuzzy, their sense of time and place blurred, and they’d become hopelessly lost and unable to escape.

No,  _ that _ part of the forest was home to creatures of darkness and demons. The ones who had shunned God, who had turned to chaos and depravity, who delighted in the torment of man.

And Alexander, like a fool, had decided that with his books and his smarts and his wand in hand, he could take anything that place had to throw at him. After all, he was a magician of his own, not your standard human by any means -- he’d be just fine.

And now, he was lost.

In the rain.

In the cold.

In the forest of monsters and magic.

He trudged forward, shuddering as he felt water squish between his toes and the backs of his shoes rub at his heels. Growing frustrated, he swept at the damp locks of hair plastered to his forehead, hissing under his breath over his hair that was quickly falling out of place in his hastily-made queue.

He had planned to pull together a small camp before nightfall, at least with some sort of roof over his head and a fire to keep him warm. But with the weather, he wasn’t so sure that would be possible, and the sun was rapidly setting. He’d thought that he at least had acquired a map detailed enough to lead him to an area of heavy timber and thick foliage that would be perfect for him to find shelter in, but glancing around, all he saw were strange shapes of claw-like branches and stones jutting from the earth around him, all blending together in the twilight.

He staggered onwards, and upon seeing the first thing that could reasonably be counted as shelter, he practically fell on his face scrambling to get inside.

It appeared as a rocky overhang, thick tendrils of ivy hanging across over most of the entrance like a curtain. The overhang didn’t seem too deep, going back far just far enough that if Alexander set his back against the stone, he’d be able to fit a fire in without fear of setting the nearby flora alight. But, it was enough for him -- at least until the rain stopped and he could find a more suitable place to make a more permanent camp. So, here he was.

Finding some wood and tinder that had found its way to resting beneath the overhang -- and tired as he was, he didn’t question it in the slightest -- he pulled together a few stones and set to work on a fire.

And when his cold and shaking hands couldn’t quite manage to work his flint and steel, he sighed, letting his head fall into his palms, then pulled his wand from his bag and in three short swipes and just as many quiet words had a small flame and a burst of smoke. Lucky for him, the spell worked as intended.

Once he’d gotten a log to catch, he dug through his bag for anything to ease the gnawing hunger in his stomach. And after a handful of shelled peanuts and most of his remaining bread, he unbuckled his blanket roll, unlaced his boots and laid them by the fire, and stripped down to his long shirt, hoping that the rest of his clothes -- frock, leggings, and all -- would be dry come morning. Or at least, not  _ nearly _ so damp.

A quick glance over the rest of his possessions revealed that most had survived well enough. He had been smart to keep his books buried in his bag -- they were the driest thing his owned at this point, being that they had been kept dry by some oilcloth -- and his pack basket was damp, but a wet pot and hatchet were the least of his worries for the time being. 

With a sigh, he pulled his blanket up over him, pressed himself up against the stone back of the overhang, and -- after a moment’s hesitation -- clutched his wand against his chest. Just in case.

He was asleep soon after.

* * *

The forest spanned a clean cut of many miles, arching northwards and then out towards the horizon from there; the deep forest, where monsters and magic alike arose, followed a similar path. The question was how far Alexander should travel before entering the wood, and that was really more logistics-based than anything else. He wasn’t a master survivalist by any means; he could provide for himself as well as anyone, but wanted access to human comforts.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew he couldn’t return to his hometown, and didn’t want to repeat the same mistakes with wherever he settled next. That was why he was here -- the forest was, as far as he was concerned, land that was sparsely settled only by people like  _ him _ . Only populated by sparse hunter’s blinds and lonely cabins. He couldn’t exactly start homesteading all on his own, either; he wasn’t equipped with such supplies. So, assuming he  _ didn’t _ become hopelessly lost like all the stories said, he wanted a town only a day or two’s walk away that would provide at least the basics of modern comforts. Somewhere to buy supplies that couldn’t be sourced naturally.

Because quite frankly, he didn’t believe that there’d be any semblance of a society where he was going.

When he came across a town well-equipped for serving as somewhere to touch base, he meandered his way to the local bar, plopped down, and waited for the locals to come trickling in as their day’s work drew to a close.

And that was how he met Aaron Burr.

“Pardon me -- are you Aaron Burr, sir?” Alexander hummed, taking a seat across from the smartly-dressed man. The man glanced up, and Alexander looked down -- to see a number of papers covered in neat, looping handwriting sprawled across the table. When he tipped his head to read them better, the man across from him huffed, pulling them together into a loose stack.

“That depends. Who’s asking?” he answered, gathering his papers and swiping them into his satchel. Alexander shook his head. The contents didn’t matter; he just wanted some assurance he had the right guy.

“I’m...well, let’s keep the focus on you,” Alexander began. “I heard your name around town -- the people said you were...a researcher, a hunter. That you’ve travelled into the great forest this town borders, travelled into its deepest stretches, and come out alive. That true? Because-” he learned forward, “I need a guide. Someone to lead me out there, somewhere I can start a new life for myself, and I figured-”

Burr’s mouth was stretched into a smile, but it did not reach his eyes. “The best advice I can give you here is to drop these- aspirations of yours. Few can go such places and make it back, and I’m one of the lucky few. Who’s to say you are? Besides, I’m not in the guide business, no matter what you can offer me.”

“Surely there’s something else you can say on the matter, something I can do to persuade you!” Alexander snapped. “I don’t care what makes you ‘different’ and what lets you wander within the forest limits. I won’t ask! But- please.”

The other man just scoffed. “I charge for my advice too, good sir. But here’s one last bit for free: you can try to enter the forest on your own. And chances are, you won’t make it out alive. Short of asking you not to try at all...well...all you need to do is keep a smile on your face.”

“Huh?”

“Talk less, smile more,” Burr continued. “Don’t mix yourself up with the affairs of whatever unnatural creatures you may meet. Don’t beg them for anything, and don’t make any deals. If you must acknowledge them, then just smile, wish them well, and continue on. Any other path is suicide.”

“I see...” Alexander trailed off.

* * *

He groaned, shifting under his blanket. It’d become bunched up under one arm, and he sleepily tugged it free, peeling open one eye to take a survey of his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was that his fire had gone out.

The second thing he’d noticed was that his fire hadn’t bled down to embers -- rather, dirt had been kicked over it to snuff it out.

And the third thing he noticed was the silhouette of  _ something _ digging through his bag.

“ _ Gah-! _ ” Alexander rolled over onto his knees, fumbling in the dirt for his wand, trying to find it among the soil and stones. It had been right beside him as he fell asleep, how could he have-

“Ah! Woah, hey, hey, cool it little man!” Alexander’s fingers closed around his wand -- a cured piece of wood lovingly polished and carved and engrained by his own hand over hours and hours of work -- and still on the ground, he spun to face the intruder, ready to face them head on. Standing before him was a man with wild, curly hair just barely restrained with a tie behind his head, freckles spattered across every inch of his skin; he was dressed in patched trousers and a loose shirt, some sort of animal pelt -- deer, it looked like -- slung over his shoulders and secured around the front. In one hand, he had what appeared to be the carcass of a freshly-trapped duck of sorts; from the other, he dropped Alexander’s canteen to the ground. “I was only lookin.’ Not tryna steal any of your stuff.”

Alexander pushed himself to his feet. “Who are you?” He glanced between the kill and the man’s attire. “You’re a hunter?”

“Name’s John. And you could say that, I suppose. Everyone needs a source of meat, after all. Although-” his expression split into a smile. “I think if anyone ought to be asking questions, it’d be me. You’re camping out practically on my front porch, after all.”

“O-oh…” Alexander glanced around in discomfort. “Ah, it was rainy last night, and getting dark. I ended up lost...and bunked down in the first dry spot I found. Wasn’t exactly checking if this place was occupied...”

“Figured that much,” John replied, leaning against the wall of the overhang. The dirt crumbled against his arm, and he straightened up, brushing dust from his clothes. “Well, I took the liberty of puttin’ out your campfire. Hope you can understand, but I don’t want my morning glories and ivy getting burnt.” He chuckled to himself. “Ah, Laf’d throw a fit. In any case, I think I’m understandably a little confused to find a random man outside my house. So if you don’t mind sitting down for a cup of tea, I’d love to hear what you’ve got to say.”

Alexander blinked, then flushed. “Right, right. Just- turn around for a moment, I still need to get dressed.” At least his pants looked dry.

Laughter, then John covered his eyes with his free hand and turned away. “Alright, alright.”

Alexander tugged on his clothes, laced up his boots, then rolled up his blanket and grabbed his things. He tucked his wand up his sleeve -- after all, he had no reason to trust this man, but also nothing to hint that he was anything but that: a man. And as off-course as he had fallen, who’s to say he was anywhere near the deep forest of magic he was searching for?

John turned back around, still covering his eyes. “Can I look now?”

“Hah, yes, sir.” Alexander replied, then spread his arms. “So?”

John smiled, then jerked his head to the side. “Over this way. C’mon!”

Alexander followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was talking about it over on Tumblr, and now it's finally here! This'll be a much lighter fic than some of the others I do -- and I mean it. It'll focus on characters over some looming threat, and delve deeper into why each character is the way they are and what led them to the lives they no lead.
> 
> This fic is a blast to write and I'm excited to share! So stay tuned for more. :)


	2. The First Three Friends

Alexander really had camped out right beside John’s home. The overhang he had slept under, upon viewing it in the morning’s light, appeared to be only a small section of a large grouping of moss and ivy-covered boulders jutting from the earth, rising along a gentle slope. John led him up a thin path of short grass and compacted soil that wound up the hill, eventually hopping up onto a boulder and pulling Alexander up with him. Then, with a flamboyant sweep of his arm, he pushed a curtain of ivy aside to reveal a door -- surprisingly large, considering how it was hidden -- built into the hillside. “Here we are!” he exclaimed, then lowered his voice a tad as he inserted a key into the lock, “You may want to keep your voice down, though. Don’t know if anyone’s still sleeping.”

John pushed the door open with a  _ creak _ and they stepped inside, Alexander blinking quickly at the sudden change in lighting. “You’re married?” he whispered, trying to keep quiet as instructed.

The other man shook his head. “Not these days.” Alexander raised an eyebrow at that, but filed it away for later, instead stepping away from the door and into the surrounding room. Once his eyes adjusted to the comparatively dim light, his surroundings came into focus.

The room was sizeable, and despite however odd the entrance may have been, the interior looked like it had been crafted over years of love and hard work. The walls were thick cut stone brick forced into the earth and sealed tight, transitioning to a slightly smaller cut as the bricks swept to surround a fireplace that had burnt down to only smoldering embers. John dropped the bird carcass by the door, shoes clicking against the clean-swept stones that made up the floor, and stooped down by the hearth to throw a few logs on the fire.

Alexander hesitantly stepped further into the room. Around the fireplace sat a few wooden seats, one a sofa and the others more comfortable, single chairs. Most had cushions and pillows draped across them, and all appeared to have been made by the same hand. He noted the pelts, antlers, and feathers used in the decorations lining the walls -- a hunter clearly did live here, if nothing else, and he almost smiled at how cozy the place looked. For being built into the earth itself, it was comfortable.

The room was fairly bright, and he tipped his head back, searching for a skylight or similar that must have been lighting it -- but what he saw instead was a fantastical  _ chandelier _ . It appeared similar to the roots of a massive tree, snaking from the center top of the room, but the tip of each root glowed with a gentle, blue-white light that sparkled and lit the room with something akin to daylight.

“Wha...what-” he started, eyes wide in wonder -- beyond what he knew himself, he had never  _ seen _ what had to be magic in action, which meant that John was-

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he sighed. “One of my friends is fantastic with those sorts of magics. He made a lamp like that for each room in the house.” When John turned to meet Alex’s gaze once more, he could tell that that was a test. He was waiting to hear Alex’s reaction, words carefully chosen --  _ magic _ , for one, and the nonchalant way he had said it all, for two.

Alexander clamped his mouth shut hard, paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, then carefully replied, “Yes. Yes, it is.”

John seemed satisfied, and seemed about to say something, when with a dramatic grunt, one of the doors -- there looked to be a few, all built into the walls of the parlor area -- slammed open, a tall, muscular man lumbering out. He staggered with each step, and Alexander noted that he appeared tired -- half awake, falling into the walls. John leaned closer to Alex’s ear, and Alexander leaned away, flinching when John grabbed his shoulders and held him in place. “Well, at least he’s finally awake,” he whispered.

The man in question somehow made it all the way into the dining room without falling over himself before collapsing into a chair. He hardly even had the time to cushion his fall with his arms, but whatever impact that had on him, the only sound he made was a grunt.

A pause, and then John burst out into laughter. “Or perhaps he’s not! Still asleep, are we?” he called, pulling away from Alex to skip into the dining room. Alexander slowly followed behind him, seeing John slap his hands down on the wood of the table and lean down to meet the half-asleep man’s level. “Hercules, we have a guest and you can hardly be bothered to raise your head!” Another grunt, and John pressed his lips to the other’s ear. “I  _ said- _ ”

“Gah- argh, yes, I’m aware, I heard you the first time,” the man --  _ Hercules _ \-- snapped back. “Trust me, I heard you  _ perfectly _ well, considering the noise you were making. What, have you cut the hooves from a buck and stuck them to your shoes?”

“Who’s to say when you’re the man who made them?” John shot back with a chuckle, earning a tired groan from Hercules, before the first added on, “In any case, you still ought to say hello. It’s rude otherwise, and you know how Lafayette feels about rudeness.”

Another moan, accompanied by a weak mumble of, “Name?”

Alexander rolled on his heels, about to speak, when there was a loud crash from outside. He shot John a look that he hoped clearly spelled his internal monologue of, “Is this cause for alarm?”

And to happily ignore Alexander’s expression, John went barrelling past him to yank another man into the room. “Oh Lafayette, just in time to meet our guest!”

“Ah, John, little one, gentle, back off now!” the final man snorted, pushing John away from him and sidestepping the quarter bags left from John’s hunt by the doorway. And Alexander was able to see him.

He was tall -- although it seemed like Alex was the shortest of the bunch, so that wasn’t saying much. He had light and fluffy hair that framed his face, a close-trimmed beard, and a stance that gave the impression he was always balanced on his toes, bursting with energy and tensed muscles.

Then he turned to shrug his cloak off his shoulders and place it on a nearby hangar, and Alexander covered his mouth to suppress a gasp.

The stranger was no man. He was a fairy. Two long, translucent wings stretched from his shoulder blades, patterned like those of a wasp, but glittering with a faintly colored sheen. Alexander should have expected this. He had waltzed right into a forest told to be home to all manner of monsters and magics, and now he was in shock that he was now in the grasp of a fae, a-

“And who have we here?” The fairy turned on Alexander, the witch taking a step back. “Have a name, sweet thing?” he followed up with a light chuckle, and a step forward to match.

Alexander backed into the table, one hand flying out behind him to catch him from falling back onto the wood (and crushing poor Hercules -- although in the other man’s defense, he seemed sturdy enough to survive an impact from Alexander, and in any case, moved to sit up in his chair at the commotion). “Ah, for simplicity’s sake, perhaps I might be entrusted with your own name first?” He racked his mind for all he knew on fairies. They were lovely, alluring, beautiful to all who saw them. They were lighthearted, rarely seen in the real world, capable of creating magnificent crafts and holding their own magic. They were-

“I call myself Lafayette,” the fairy began, “but Laf is fine all the same.” He took another step forward, and this time, it was to throw his palms down on either side of Alexander and pin the man back against the table. “Now, need I repeat myself?” Lafayette nearly purred.

Alexander slowly reached for his wand in his pocket. Just in case, as on edge as he was. “My name is Alexander Hamilton,” he muttered, “But Alexander is fine...fine all the same.” John and Hercules watched from the sides, in interest, and Lafayette responded with a tiny nod, drawing away and giving the witch enough room to breathe once more.

With a dismissive sweep of his hand, the fairy fell back against the dining room wall. “Mn, so, he is a lost traveler?”

“Alexander is a proper witch, I’m afraid!” John cried aloud, spreading his arms wide. “Pulled his wand on me once when I was coming back from clearing the night’s traps.”

“A witch, eh?” Hercules leaned to get a better look over Alexander’s features, as if searching for something that would have made it all suddenly clear, merely hidden within Alex’s jawline or eye color alone. “Interesting.”

“Very much so,” John agreed.

And from that day’s events thus far alone, Alexander was very worried he had fallen in far over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things to note now that we're on chapter two! But before I begin, don't forget to check out [this AU's ask blog over here!](http://ask-hamilton-fantasy.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Anyways, I'm still working to update this fic. I've been battling a constantly increasing workload, stress, depression, a loss of motivation, and all sorts of craziness lately -- but this evening, I opened the windows, slept, played with my cat, and...felt happy, for the first time in a month. And I want to keep riding that high, and I want to keep writing.
> 
> Because this fic is a very loose exploration of life in the forest, I want to try something new -- very short updates, but updates that come more often. Short scenes, long scenes. Meeting people. Having fun. Whatever I can do in a night. It makes things easier on me and gives me a better goal to face.
> 
> So expect more from this fic soon enough!


	3. Exploring the Woods

A few days in, and Alexander surprised himself with how quickly he was adjusting to life in the forest.

John and the others had been so gracious as to allow Alexander to stay with them, so long as he helped them out now and again. At least, that had been the way they phrased it; Alexander still wasn’t positive what exactly that entailed, but did his best to be useful.

The first night had been busy with getting Alexander settled in. Perhaps it was out of true kindness and concern, or perhaps it was out of worry that if the witch kept waving his wand around he’d break something he didn’t mean to break, but John reassured Alex that they weren’t looking to eat him during the night or anything of the sort. And while John did have that sort of look about him -- his teeth were all a bit sharper than normal, his senses heightened, muscles tensed -- Alexander was inclined to believe him, as friendly as John was. Hercules, too, seemed nice, at least once he woke up. He was a bit older than the others, less boisterous, but seemed genuine. Beyond that, he...seemed normal. Totally, perfectly, normal; just another man like Alexander -- although of course normal men couldn’t enter the forest, so he was left wondering just what was it about Hercules that had brought him here. Then, finally, there was Lafayette -- charming, handsome, and very worrying to Alexander, at least considering the stories the witch remembered of the fae and fair. Fortunately, Lafayette at least tried to put Alexander’s worries to rest sooner rather than later, explaining that the stories -- of how one wrong word would sell your soul away, of tricksters and danger -- were true, but unrealistic for their situation. Such deals and challenges of wits and will were conducted in the magical language, and while he had few doubts that Alexander was vaguely versed in the language (being a which as he was), it was simpler for everyone to speak in a common tongue shared between the four of them. Beyond that, even if they were speaking elsewise, Lafayette was quite happy to live here peacefully, and had no intentions to harm anyone else.

While the witch had been perfectly happy offering to simply take the sofa near the fireplace (it was the warmest spot in the house, in any case, even if it meant it was up to him to feed a log to the fire every now and again), the others had insisted he have a proper space, even if he had to share a room with someone else. 

That created the question of who exactly he was to be staying with. Lafayette politely explained he was not interested in sharing his room, as it was carefully kept and catered to his own needs. John had called him a pansy for that, and Lafayette was thoroughly confused as to what the expression meant.

John then extended an invitation for Alexander to share a room with him, but Hercules gently noted, “That may not be the best idea, knowing...how you get.”

John reluctantly agreed, but tried to poke fun at the situation by adding, “Perhaps. And my bed is mostly furs, anyways. Difficult to share a mat of skins.”

Hercules wrinkled his nose at the phrasing, but agreed, and thus it was decided that Alexander would be sleeping with Hercules from then on. It wasn’t too out of place to share a bed with another man, and Alexander took no issue with it, but Hercules was at least kind enough to warn him that he would do well to be quiet getting up in the mornings. Common courtesy, really. But considering Alexander wasn’t the sort to be up before the sun rose in any case, he was happy to agree with those conditions.

Of course, it still took some time to get used to how things went from day to day. If nothing else, the others (after determining he was a witch) refrained from asking him about his magic -- there were no requests for enchantments or spells, something Alexander was incredibly thankful for. They seemed to understand that your standard, well-adjusted man didn’t enter the forest for no reason, and accordingly treated him as such. In fact, the furthest that conversation was the first night Alexander spent with them, lying in bed pondering over the day’s events as Hercules undressed and moved to lay beside him.

“I never expected to meet a man like you living here,” Alexander had admitted. “Lafayette is a fairy, perhaps, and John...is his own being. But you seem so indifferent to it all. You’re so unbothered. So...normal.”

“We all have our reasons for being here. I’m sure you’re the same,” Hercules had replied in turn. “Now, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

* * *

And the very next day, Alexander went out exploring.

There was something beautiful about this particular section of the forest that he hadn’t noticed when he first stumbled in -- an incident of him getting lost that, according to Hercules’ incredible knowledge, was simple due to his own “buffoonery” rather than any magic of the forest forcing him lost in the wilderness. Of course, such an effect would remain for nonmagical humans entering the wood, but that hardly described him, so pure idiocy it was!

In any case, he stepped out of the house to glance around the local area. Where when he had first arrived it had appeared foggy and cold, today the woods was alight with golden rays of sunshine peppered through the leaves.

The immediate hill surrounding the home was rockier than much of the surrounding forest, peppered with large boulders of the sort that were inclined to house snakes and their kin -- not something Alexander wanted to be involved with, lest he be bitten on his first time out of the house. Instead, he glanced around and finally chose to take a left and round the eastern slope of the hill (where it was admittedly the warmest, considering the sun) and begin the trek upwards to get a better view of the surrounding land.

One little detail he noted was the amount of  _ grass _ scattered about. It gave everything a leafy, full feeling, and he quite enjoyed it.

In approaching the very top, he almost had to pause for a double-take at the area. The crest of the hill was round and flat, connecting to a few other bounding slopes, so it wasn’t so perfect it was unnatural -- but it was a very comfortably consequential piece of natural architecture. Crowning the top of the hill was a wide stone flatter than many of the others, although it was still cracked in places and covered with moss and lichen. He stepped across it, the heels of his boots clicking against the stone, and smiled.  _ This was nice _ .

Past there, he continued his journey, careful to be sure of where he was coming from so that he didn’t find himself lost once more. Upon descending the slope once more, he came upon what was either a manmade walkway or some sort of deer trail -- although quite frankly, if both man and beast used it, was the distinction really of any consequence? In any case, he idly followed the path.

At one point, he came across a stream, and hopped across, filing its location away for later.  _ I wonder if it feeds into a pond _ , he thought to himself as he walked.

And after a short while, he came across a wide bend in the trail leading to a notable fork in the path -- one way unmarked, and the other instead set with a cheery sign reading: Madison. Interested, he glanced past the sign -- and if he carefully scanned the trees, he could even pick out a little house in the distance. Smiling, he continued on down the unmarked path, but added the house and its owner to the list of things he’d have to ask about later.  _ Very interesting _ .

In following the trail further and further, he finally came across one last interesting location before its end: a lovely little grotto of trees that stood gathered together in a loose circle. Something about that clearing -- the way the flowers sought out patches of sunshine, the way little butterflies danced across it -- made him smile, and he lingered there for a good while before turning and heading back the way he came.

That evening, he sat back down with the other men for dinner, buzzing with questions.

“So, are you the only fae of your sorts here?” Alexander directed his question towards Lafayette, who had just at that moment popped a few blackberries into his mouth. While the visual image of the fairy struggling to finish the berries before speaking was amusing, he did tentatively ask, “Ah, are you alright?”

“I am fine,” Lafayette finally replied, coughing. Then, he shook his head, and answered Alexander’s question. “Ah, no, there are some others, but very few, and not of the same...fairy group, as I am. Sorry, it is hard to explain, but fairies have our sects and dialects and associations. I am generally alone here in that.”

“Ah,” Alexander replied, thinking. “So then who else’s out here? I mean, I went looking around, and I ran into someone’s house labelled with “Madison, and-”

“Mn, oh-” Hercules stepped in, pausing to swallow his bite of venison. John had provided their meal that night -- or at least, the meat of it -- from his latest bag from hunting. Lafayette had gathered the greens and fruits, however. “I take it you went down the eastern trail, then?” Alexander nodded, and Hercules continued, “There are a few trails around here, and most people live off of one or some of them to some extent. Eastern trail takes you over by the main stream that feeds the lake, and a few other places. Others go elsewhere; couple people live scattered around. Good number of us living in the area, believe it or not.”

_ So there is a lake _ . “And, this Madison person is…?” he probed.

“He is very nice,” Lafayette commented. “He, ah...he has the power over plants. He grows specialty herbs to sell at the market, and trades with us sometimes. Lives with another man, like we do, named Jefferson. He is very nice, and a friend of mine.”

“Oh!” That sounded promising. “Oh, that’s just swell. I’ll have to pay them a visit sometime and introduce myself.”

Lafayette smiled, and softly agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alexander is settling in just nicely, but is slowly learning more about the strange men he's found himself rooming with.
> 
> Beyond that, there are the others that live there, too -- and it seems that with an initial friendly reception, he's gone and forgotten what other dangers may lie beyond in the forest.


	4. Jefferson and Madison

Late at night, Alexander laid back in his and Hercules’ bed and idly commented aloud, “John said he’s a bachelor.”

Stripping down to his long shirt, Hercules corrected him, “He would have said he wasn’t married, not that he was a bachelor.”

“Alright, well- semantics aside,” Alexander rolled his eyes, “He is not engaged with a woman at this time.”

Hercules strode over to sit down at his bed, fiddling with the lamp. In the past few days, Alexander had learned quite a bit of what magics the fairy, Lafayette, possessed. (He still questioned what exactly was “off” about John, and Hercules seemed...strangely normal for this un-normal place, but that was beside the point.) Lafayette had a multitude of strange abilities, and was always using them simply for his own odds and ends. Hercules had gently explained not to question what Lafayette was capable of, and simply accept things as they came. In the case of the bedside lamp, Lafayette had enchanted pale white roots of plants to glow on command, encasing a shiny quartz gemstone in a basket-like shape. Hercules ceased the enchantment, and their room was cast into darkness. “Alexander,” he began as he shuffled to get under the covers. “What are you getting at?”

“I’m just thinking, is all,” Alexander replied. “Just thinking.”

Hercules seemed to pick up on what Alexander was implying, because as he rolled over to face the wall, he simply murmured, “Let us just say that there is more than one reason why I tend to keep to myself in the mornings.”

* * *

Alex’s thoughts were rather  _ explicitly _ confirmed the next morning. He was up a bit earlier than his sleep schedule usually took him, and as Hercules was still asleep, he went about his morning routine in relative silence. He had his bag slung over one shoulder with one of his books thrown inside next to his wand and a pencil. He was planning today to do some more exploration, and attempt to get some work of his own done on the side, so out he went, quickly shuffling himself into the common living area.

There, he saw John shoved down against the sofa, Lafayette sitting with his bent legs across the other’s hips, the two’s mouths pressed together and John’s hands fisted into Lafayette’s hair.

Suppressing a squeak of surprise, Alexander held one hand up to block his view of the scene unfolding to his right and made a beeline towards the door. To further his embarrassment, John must have pulled away from Lafayette just long enough to notice Alex’s presence in the first place -- because he let out a whooping laugh at Alex’s flushed expression and jokingly (at least, Alexander presumed it was a joke) called for Alexander to join them. The laughter only grew as Alexander flusteredly cried, “No, thank you!” and rushed outside.

It took half of the walk to Mr. Madison’s home before he got his heart rate under control, and the other half of the walk for him to prepare himself for their meeting. What was he even going to say? He wanted to make a good first impression. Lafayette had vaguely explained that Madison has “power over plants,” but what did that truly refer to?

If nothing else, he found the path again and retraced his steps, heading towards the other man’s house.

Of course, he was saying “Mr. Madison,” but another man lived there, a Mr. Jefferson. As he walked, Alexander idly mulled over how the two men’s living arrangement had been described -- quite frankly, with the position he had seen Lafayette and John in that very morning, he certainly couldn’t claim one way or the other that Jefferson and Madison were...involved. But, well, he still had to wonder.

As he neared where he had seen the man’s house, he noted the way the trees seemed to appear a bit healthier, the way the foliage was a bit brighter. Perhaps it was merely his mind recalling Madison’s supposed abilities and changing how he viewed the world, but he couldn’t help but think how nice it appeared here. Even the air smelled a little sweeter, and as he walked, he noted the little pink orchids dotting the path around him. How pleasant!

He was so preoccupied with the scenery that his attention dedicated to the trail itself waned -- a fact that he would soon come to regret as his foot collided with something squishy and he yelped and nearly lept out of his skin, tripping over himself.

Sprawled on the ground, he groaned and sat up. No doubt he’d see a bruise tomorrow. Almost fearfully, he allowed his gaze to fall on the source of his mishap -- and to his surprise, laying across the trail with an incredibly annoyed look, was a cat.

Something in the back of his mind chuckled, “ _ Hah, a cat? Aren’t you supposed to be a witch’s best friend? _ ” and he tentatively put out a hand, the animal looking at him boredly before rolling over. Hm, yes, that was a friendly response, if he had to guess. Clambering to his knees, he crawled forwards enough to pat the cat’s head. Barely able to contain his smile, he just snorted in amusement as the cat rubbed its head up against his hand.

Then, he heard someone say, “Ah, hello there.”

And for a moment, simply considering they were in a magical forest, he stared at the cat. Just in case it was the one to have spoken. But instead, he then noticed the pair of feet just past the cat, and Alexander jerked his head up to see a tall man standing before him.

The man was dressed oddly, especially considering the days had a tendency to warm quite a bit come noon at this time of the year. The first part of his outfit Alexander noticed was his gloves -- they were moderately ornate; certainly not a working man’s gloves, at the least. Next was his waistcoat -- rather fanciful, again, a number of lovely buttons running down the front. From there was the rest of his outfit -- all of it well-fitting, too. A long-sleeved cloak with a hood that was pulled over the man’s head enough to shroud his face in shadow; trousers rather than breeches, long and black and falling to his ankles. Stury, well-worn shoes to finish the look.

A man who prized comfort, but knew to look sharp. Alexander grinned -- he could tell he liked the man already.

The man stooped down to scoop up the cat, and it purred, seeming to not mind too much to be treated as a ragdoll and bundled up in his arms.

“Is that your cat?” Alexander first asked, and once his brain caught up to his mouth, added, “Oh, are you Mr. Madison?” He didn’t appear the “druid” type, but certainly, who was to say?

“Oh! No, that’s not me,” the man explained. “I’m Thomas. Thomas Jefferson.” Shifting to hold the cat in one arm, he held out a hand and shot back a charming smile. “But yes, this is my cat.” Jefferson. So that’d be the one who lived with Madison. Alexander shook Thomas’ hand. “I do tend to stay with Mr. Madison quite often, however,” he added. “May I ask why you’re looking for him? I’d be happy to introduce you two -- I don’t believe I’ve seen you around these parts before.” Thomas nodded towards the house, and the two of them began walking towards it. Alexander noted the soft, rolling accent Thomas held; it was rather pleasant to hear.

“Well, I’ve just moved here!” Alexander exclaimed. “Staying with three other men in the area. I figured it’d be best if I introduced myself.”

Thomas idly bobbed his head in recognition. “Lafayette and his friends, I’d presume? Can’t say much on the other two, but Laf’s a good friend of mine. Quite an interesting man, I must say.”

Alexander almost had to smile. This was...such a pleasant experience. Two men off for a walk, chatting so casually. It felt normal, average. And he  _ relished _ that feeling -- it was what he had come here looking for! A place to be himself without worry. How nice it was! “He’s certainly something,” Alexander lightly agreed.

Then, Thomas let out the smallest squeak of surprise as his cat squirmed in his arms and leapt from his grip. Alexander chuckled as Thomas jumped to grab his cat once more, tripping over an exposed root and rolling into the dirt -- yelping as his cloak’s hood nearly slipped from his head, and reaching up to grab it and pull it tighter over his hair. Alexander watched the cat run off back towards the house before turning back to Jefferson. “Are you alright? Concerned of sunburn?” Thomas had rather dark skin, he couldn’t imagine-

Thomas laughed bitterly, woozily returning to his feet. Alexander took a half-step forward, one eyebrow raised as he saw the man touch one gloved fingertip to his scalp -- then blinked in surprise as he watched the man pull his hand away and frown. His skin there appeared raw, burnt and blistered-

And after a few moments, it healed back good as new. Alexander blinked at the sight, and Thomas chuckled again, and when Alexander watched his split smile, he saw two sharp canines protruding just a  _ tad _ further than what was normal, “I’m afraid I’m rather susceptible to-”

Vulnerable to the sun. Sharp canines. The man’s skin was hardly ashen or grey, but surely the books could exaggerate-

Thomas tipped his head, reaching out with one hand. “Uh, Hamilton, are you alright?”

Alexander jumped back, brandishing his wand. “ _ Vampire! _ ” he hissed, and he saw Jefferson’s gaze dart from his wand to Alexander’s face and then back again, eyes wide.

Then, his wide-eyed expression became a glare and a grimace, and he hissed back, “A  _ witch _ , then, that’s what you are-”

The two were nearly at each other’s throats when a third, unfamiliar voice called out, “Thomas! You’re back!” and the  _ vampire _ turned away, rushing towards the figure who had just stepped off of the porch.

So. Thomas Jefferson was a vampire…

And the short, smiling man on the porch -- James Madison, that must’ve been who he was -- apparently had no problem greeting one.

He knew some things were “off” about the forest, but this…?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson isn't your typical vampire, and Alexander has quite a bit to learn in any case.
> 
> And a cute little, regular, cat. Don't ask how Thomas got it.


	5. A Pause for Brunch

Alexander staggered in his step, thoughts racing. What was he to do? Back away, hope he wasn’t noticed? (Except certainly if that man had seen Thomas, he had similarly seen Alexander.) Keep walking along the path as if he was going somewhere else?

“Oh, hello!”

Alexander froze up mid-step, a grimace spreading across his face. Oh God. Seemed like that decision was made for him. Awkwardly shooting a man a wave, Alexander swallowed his discomfort and forced himself to walk over to meet him.

Trying not to make eye contact with Jefferson, he kept his head down just a touch, stiffly walking towards the little cabin. But despite his discomfort, he couldn’t help but notice the scenery around him -- a little cabin covered by a blanket of glossy ivy, a line of trees bearing fruit and large flowers, plots of the garden surrounding the front porch tilled and teeming with rich plant life. It was so...idyllic.

Stepping right up to Mr. Madison, who stood on the bottom step of the porch, Alexander gulped and stuck out a hand, blatantly ignoring Jefferson. “Alexander Hamilton, sir. I- ah, I’ve just moved here recently, and have been about greeting neighbors.”

Madison raised an eyebrow, but took his hand, shaking it. “James Madison.” Then, he glanced to Jefferson -- and the vampire simply crossed his arms with a huff.

“He’s a witch, Jemmy.”

Alexander saw Madison’s expression tighten and felt his own heart drop. He had met a fairy, and surely John and Hercules had something that set them apart as well if they were able to travel within the forest’s bounds without becoming lost. He may have chosen to dabble in witchery when he was younger, but he couldn’t exactly take it back now, and he wished others would respect that choice.

But then, to his surprise, Madison shot Jefferson a glare. “You know, after your trip, I’m sure you’re quite tired. You’d best unpack your trunk and get some rest; perhaps that will fix your attitude.”

“Wha- excuse you!” Jefferson snapped in reply, but after a moment’s hesitation, finally huffed and added, “I left my bag on the trail chasing after your cat. I’ll go get it.”

And with that, he stomped off, hood carefully pulled over his head to cover himself from the sun. Madison watched him go, before shaking his head. “It’s really nothing personal, he’s simply a man of few principles, one of them being a distaste for the practice of witchcraft. I wouldn’t take it to heart.” Seeing Alexander still linger beyond the stoop, Madison sighed and motioned for the man to follow him in. “Come, come. I’ve been putting together something light for brunch if you’d like a bite to eat while you’re here.”

“O-oh,” Alexander stammered, shoes clunking against the wooden stairs of the entranceway as they headed inside. Alexander paused to look around, taking in the space around him -- it was quite the quaint little home, that was for sure, but he couldn’t help but smile with bright eyes as he glanced about. The foyer seemed fairly standard among nicer houses of the time, although it seemed to double as a sitting room and place for company. He saw no paintings, but did pause for a moment to admire a gorgeous tapestry hung on the wall. “This is quite nice. Who’s the artist?”

“That’d be Lafayette!” Madison chuckled in reply. “He’s quite the weaver.”

“Lafayette?” Alexander trailed off, looking at the tiny, perfect stitches and noting the way the fabric seemed to ripple in the gentle light coming through the windows.

“Mhm,” Madison confirmed. “How long’ve you been here, may I ask?” The man resumed walking, leading Alexander through the house. The witch tipped his head back, glancing up, then to the sides, noting the rooms as they passed.

“A few days at best. I’ve roomed with Lafayette and his friends for the time being. I...felt it would be best to be here. Safer, if you will.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” Madison reassured him. The two came to stand at the end of the central hallway; to the right appeared to be perhaps a bedroom with a fireplace; in front of them was a south-facing room with a stone-brick floor and numerous windows -- a greenhouse of sorts; then, to the left, was the kitchen. “We’re quite lucky it hasn’t been too insufferably warm yet this year; we can still use the kitchen indoors for cooking, although I will rather appreciate it when we don’t need a fire in the evenings.” Alexander awkwardly mumbled his agreements, the other man glancing back to him with a smile. “Here, take a seat by the counter. Ah, and please, do call me James, by the way. And I’m sure Thomas will be happy if you call him by his first name as well.”

“Oh- ah, alright...James,” Alexander replied, sitting lightly on a nearby stool. The kitchen itself was rather love, he had to admit. There was a well-stocked fruit bowl, little glass jars of spices sitting on the shelves, and a vase of fresh flowers clipped and artfully arranged in water. Heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway; Jefferson- no, Thomas- must’ve finally brought his bags in. Come to think of it...he was a vampire; wasn’t he unable to enter homes without permission? Although, this was  _ his _ home as well, so perhaps that rule didn’t apply in such a situation. Alexander turned back to face James as he heard a little swish and a  _ pop _ . James had opened up a new jar of boiled peanuts, and the man shuffled about in a cabinet for a moment before producing a little bowl to pour them out into, setting it on the counter beside Alexander. “You do gardening?” he asked.

“You could say that,” the man laughed. “I- uh...I’m a druid, see. Life seems to enjoy my presence; I’m a healer with quite the green thumb.”

“A...druid?” Alexander replied, eyes widening. He jumped upon hearing a light “mew,” swiveling in his seat to watch the cat from before waltz in, rubbing against James’ legs. “Oh! This is your familiar, then?”

“Psh,” was all James managed in reply, pausing to pat the animal’s head. “She’s hardly intelligent enough for that role. Just a housecat, I’m afraid. A decent mouser, to keep the pests out and such.”

“Oh,” Alexander muttered, rather lamely. This whole situation felt awkward as it was -- the stilted conversation, the  _ vampire _ in the other room, the fact neither man was touching the bowl of boiled peanuts. 

As if to ignore the heavy weight in the room, James returned to putting together a small brunch for the two of them, instead asking, “Peaches, blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, strawberries, or grapes? Ooh, or persimmon.”

“Huh?”

“Jam,” James explained, taking out a loaf from the breadbox and beginning to tear a piece off. “I’m partial to strawberry with a little butter on top, but I’ll warn you that our last batch of strawberry jam came out a bit runny.”

“Strawberry is fine,” he answered, fiddling with his shirt. “I- I’m so sorry, sir, but...I’m a bit overwhelmed, I hope you can understand. Lafayette was already enough, and now a- now a vampire-!”

James tore off another bit for Alexander. “Alexander, sir, I can quite assuredly tell you Thomas is harmless. And even if he weren’t...well, he’s admitted he lacks a taste for magical blood. Consider yourself safe. Besides-” he threw his head back and laughed. “Well, you said it yourself that you’re quite new here, so I doubt you’d know. But we -- Thomas and I -- and the men you’re staying with have dinner together once or twice a month, as Lafayette and Thomas are good friends. And outside of that, John often trades us his kills from hunting for fruits and vegetables. You may have already eaten something I grew, come to think of it! So please, truly, don’t worry. This place is a safe one. A haven for people like us.”

Alexander faintly smiled.

And his smile grew tight and forced when those heavy footsteps from earlier returned and Thomas walked into the kitchen, the hairs on the back of Alexander’s neck prickling as he noted the presence behind him. Trying not to look too odd, Alexander snuck a glance at the man, thinking. He was clearly a vampire of sorts; while John had slightly sharper-than-normal teeth, Thomas had small fangs, canines that were just a tad longer than could be considered humanly possible. His skin wasn’t pale as Alexander had always imagined the stereotypical vampire’s to be -- Hell, his skin wasn’t even ashen with the look of death. He seemed like a perfectly normal man, setting aside the teeth and how sunshine was painful for him, and how he appeared to heal almost an instant after the source of harm ceased.

How odd.

James raised an eyebrow, as if not fully convinced Thomas had righted his attitude in the last few minutes, but smiled anyways. “So, Thomas, how was your trip?”

“Same as always,” Thomas sighed, leaning back against the counter Alexander was sitting at. “Nothing much to report.” He glanced over at Alexander, who narrowed his eyes in return.

“Ah well, at least there’s nothing bad to report, right?” James chuckled.

“Mnph,” was all Thomas managed to reply.

Alexander abruptly stood up. “You know, I really ought to be going. I practically ran off this morning; I’m sure they’ll be missing me.”

“Oh, okay,” James replied. “Perhaps we’ll see you this weekend over dinner?”

“Ah, quite certainly,” Alexander gritted out before stiffly waving, more politely excusing himself, and then dashing out.

* * *

Lafayette’s polite, “Did you meet Mr. Madison?” was rudely interrupted by Alexander slamming his hands down on the dining room table in frustration.

“Jefferson’s a vampire!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. “I’ve had it rather exhaustlessly explained to me he is harmless. I’ll accept that. But by definition, a a vampire is a demonic creature that eats people. People like me!” he squeaked, jabbing his thumbs into his chest to illustrate his point. “I think it might have been well to mention it, even if you are presumably immune to such a concern, being a fae as you are.”

Lafayette stared at him for a long few moments, blinked, then replied with a chuckle, “Even if he were looking to kill you, he wouldn’t enjoy it. I do not recall him ever enjoying the presence of witches.” Alexander hoped the shocked and disgusted look on his face was enough to illustrate his point. If Lafayette knew that Jefferson had some sort of preconceived hatred of witches, then why would he encourage Alexander to meet with him. The fairy tapped a finger against the corner of his lip. “Perhaps I should have mentioned that much. But! In any case. Did you meet Madison, as well?”

“James seems nice enough,” Alexander admitted. There was a shuffling somewhere in the living room, and Alexander glanced back for a moment to see John stepping inside and tossing his fur cloak onto the couch. He turned back to face Lafayette, a sudden thought striking him. “Thomas and James are both single men living together. Are they, ah…together?” Like Lafayette and John were.

“Hm? Oh, oh no!” the fairy laughed, fluttering his wings lightly. “They’re quite like brothers, actually. They’re incredibly close, though.” Close brothers. Alexander’s heart gave a little thump of pain at the mention. Sure, half his family was dead. But he had still disappeared without a trace from those who were still alive and well.

He shook his head, not wanting to linger on such thoughts, instead pondering aloud, “What would a vampire even want with a vegetable garden, in any case? He can’t eat any of it.”

“He’s actually quite the cook!” John laughed, clapping Alexander on the shoulder as he stepped into the dining room. “Anyways, why’re we all gatherin’ in here?”

“Alexander has trapped me!” Lafayette laughed.

Alexander rolled his eyes, folding his arms. “I’m simply tired of these affairs with dangerous things. I  _ left _ home to be in a safer place, and now I’ve to deal with vampires and their kin? What’s next, werewolves!?”

An awkward silence ensued. John softly coughed, before softly replying, “Alexander-”

Another pause, before Alexander sighed and allowed his stance to drop. “I- I’m sorry. I know I’ve been rather snappy and on edge despite your- your incredible generosity. This is just a lot to take in. I’ve never met anyone else with powers aside from myself; I learned everything on the subject from my books and from trial and error! I’ve only heard of the dangers of- of fae, and vampires, and whatever else. And yes, I know I waltzed right into a forest known to be full of them! But I was expecting to have to fight, to have to be on my toes. Everything here is so nice, so calm, and I feel as though I’m constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, to reveal the bad side to this place.”

John’s hand met the crook of his arm, and then John pulled Alexander around and used his free hand to brush a stray hair back behind Alexander’s ear. “You’re safe here. Don’t forget that.”

And Alexander relaxed into the touch before John pulled away. “Right. Oh- and, also…” he awkwardly folded his hands. “All I said about Jefferson aside, James mentioned something about dinner this weekend!”

“Oh! That’s right!” Lafayette squeaked, happily clapping his hands together. “Yes, that’s correct. I’m quite excited; Jefferson is an excellent chef.”

“Joy,” Alexander replied, a bit dryly, before sighing and stretching. “I have to admit though, that this has all been- well, it’s been a lot to take in. I, ah, I might have some lunch and then head out for a walk.” A walk in the opposite direction, as he wasn’t too interested in any more run-ins with Thomas and James, as friendly as the latter of the two seemed. Nor was he at all up to studying his spellbooks. This may have been a place he could practice in relative peace and safety, but it was something he had to ease to, and studying with his nerves shot was only going to cause more problems.

“I will go with you!” Lafayette exclaimed. “I can show you around.”

John just snorted. “Herc and I’ll be busy this afternoon. You two have fun.”

And Alexander just smiled back at him in reply.

Maybe he had been overreacting over the vampire situation. This place -- the forest -- it was everything he had ever wanted, and he only had to learn to make the best of it as of yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alexander panics.
> 
> Thing is, Thomas has good reasons for despising witches, of which (as far as he knows) Alexander is a traditionally powerful one. We'll get more into the meat of Alexander's powers soon, and every character's traits and pasts, but Thomas has his reasons.
> 
> Alexander is simply scared of the unknown, and even having reassurance doesn't quell his nervousness. He was jumpy when he saw John, a strange man. He was a bit slower to trust Lafayette, who for all he knew would string him up and carry his soul off to the place of the fae. Hell, he barely even knows *what* the forest is, only that it is a place of magic alone. Vampires, though...they feed off human blood, so surely they CAN'T be non-dangerous, even if you aren't the one they're targeting, and even if said vampire hardly seems stereotypical in the slightest.


	6. Calm Down

Alexander trailed behind Lafayette as they walked, picking through long-kept trails grown over with moss and swept clear of leaves. Alexander was beginning to build a decent mental-map of sorts of the inhabited section of the forest, but had yet to truly learn its ins and outs, so he was thankful they were at least sticking to the path.

“You are very skittish,” the fairy observed. “That is not necessary. Everyone in the forest who I know is very accomodating.”

Alexander flushed, recalling his walking in on John and Lafayette that morning. Yes, they all seemed  _ very _ “accommodating,” that was certain. Coughing into his clenched first, he simply squeaked out, “I’m sure that’s true. But that hardly diminishes the fact that- ah...” He had come here for a better life. He knew what he was walking into. “I’m just nervous, is all.”

Lafayette slapped him hard enough on the back that he winced, shooting the fae an odd look, but the fairy seemed to disregard it. “I would not worry!”

Alexander frowned, but tried to shrug his concerns off, crossing his arms and nodding. Lafayette seemed pleased with that reaction, and the two continued their walk. The forest really was quite lovely, if one took the time to take it all in -- leafed out with thick greenery keeping them shaded despite the relative warmth of the day, little orchids dotting the edges of the paths, birds chirping somewhere out of sight. “It’s quite lovely here,” he finally commented.

“Yes. I think that too.”

Alexander tipped his head back, watching a light breeze make the highest branches in the trees shudder. “As a fairy, you’re from the home of the fae, yes? Is...that place as beautiful? In the books I’ve read, it was always described in such a way...” He left out any mention of the bad stories. He liked Lafayette, he really did, but just in case.

The fairy shrugged, his wings twitching as he did so. “It is very beautiful, yes...but it is also a land of rules, backwards glances.” Lafayette winced, idly drawing circles in the air with his hands as he attempted to find the right English words. “That is...that is why I left. The whole land is stiff and pre-decided. There are harsh groups, families and alliances of fae beings, and it is the magic of the land that grows us, defines us. I would rather chance a life of my own, no? That is the reason why we are all here in this forest, I would think. To outrun our pasts, and make something of our own.” The fae shivered, despite there hardly being a breeze, and Alexander frowned.

Well, the fairy had been spot-on about that. Trying not to let their conversation linger on  _ that _ particular tidbit for too long, he instead awkwardly coughed and pointed out, “Well, surely there are  _ some _ fae who don’t appreciate such a lifestyle. You left, why would they and their families not?” Beyond his wings and a slight mystical look and feel to him, at least at a glance, Lafayette would have passed as human.

The fairy shook his head. “Some do -- but as I said, our homeland defines us. I have heard before...of fae families swapping their children with those of humans. They say it is to give their child a better life, and...to give a human a taste of the fae realms. But!” Lafayette quickly shook his head, stuttering in his step. “That is besides the point. Fae children of any sort, fairy or any...cannot grow away from our lands. I am an adult, and as such have no concerns of this sort of thing. But a mere child will lack wings, will lack that taste of magic we all know so well. It is said they can never find peace without their true homeland, that their magic is perverted instead. Rather than the magic of creation, it is the magic of diversion. They hide their face, they cry for their true home. Many die before adulthood.”

Alexander felt sick to his stomach, and finally just muttered, “Changelings?” He had only heard of them before as odd children suspected to be of fae origin. Lafayette stiffly nodded, and Alexander was tactful enough to change their topic of conversation. “In any case. You said you’d be showing me around? What exactly is there to see?” Thus far, they’d walked in a fairly straight line away from the home, and while they had been following a well-worn trail, they hadn’t run into any landmarks thus far.

“Two other men live over this way,” Lafayette explained, perking up almost immediately -- his wings were always laid flat against his back like a cape, but even they lifted a bit at Alexander’s question. “I will warn you: one is a fairy. He has lived here a long time, longer than me. The other one is a magic user like you! I think that you two may enjoy each other.”

A bit of odd phrasing, but the suggestion made Alexander pause in his tracks, before stuttering and jogging to keep up with Lafayette’s unyielding pace. He hadn’t met another magic user... _ ever, _ to his knowledge. Hell, he’d found the very books that taught him magic by accident! He’d made his own wand, he’d built his own spells from the ground-up based only on the few words he knew in the magical language in the first place. He knew there were other magic users in his family, certainly, but he’d never met them, and the only exposure he’d had to other witches was in hushed whispers and rumors that dangerous beings were afoot that night.

He didn’t even know what to expect.

Lafayette must have sensed Alexander’s surprise, because the fairy took him by one hand and tugged him along a little faster. “Do not concern yourself, little witch. Remember-”

“This place is safe,” Alexander finished for him. “I know it’s safe; this isn’t my own...fear. I’m surprised to hear of someone else like myself, is all.”

Lafayette smiled at him. “Ah! Good, then, because we’re here.”

Alexander blinked and jerked his head to see, and sure enough, they had walked up on two little cabins without him realizing.

* * *

The fairy, if nothing else, had the mindfulness to give Alexander a run-down as to who he’d be meeting  _ before _ they barged right on into the men’s homes: the two men were named Samuel Seabury and Charles Lee, and they tended to keep to themselves and do simple intellectual work from their home, going into town rarely to associate. As far as the witch could see, the two little cabins were half-connected -- they were built on a shared plot cleared from the surrounding brush, a shallow stone wall surrounding the whole lot, and a firepit gathered into the center. There was a garden plot, and a sort of breezeway or roofed walkway connected the two buildings, a table and chairs and a stack of firewood visible beneath the awning.

“All you must do is remain polite and hold your head high,” Lafayette reassured him; Alexander nodded, and the fairy led him to the closer of the two buildings first, lightly rapping on the door. “Mr. Seabury, good morning!” There didn’t seem to be much movement inside, and Alexander shot Lafayette a look, to which the fairy huffed and pounded on the door once more. “Mr. Seabury, we have a new resident here, and it would  _ only _ be polite if you answered the door!”

After another few seconds of waiting, a somewhat older man with hair only barely pulled into a queue and glasses propped onto his nose answered the door, appearing nonplussed. “Mr. Lafayette, what a pleasure.” His tone certainly didn’t convey such a message, and the man -- Seabury -- pulled his glasses away from his face and instead hooked them on the collar of his waistcoat. “And, you are…?”

Seabury nodded towards Alexander, and the witch quickly composed himself to reply, “Ah, I’m Alexander, sir. Alexander Hamilton.” The man quirked an eyebrow, glancing up and down over Alexander before looking back to Lafayette. Remembering what the fairy had said about there being another magic caster living there (and seeing as Seabury lacked the look of a fae), after a moment of awkward silence, he blurted out, “Lafayette said you were a magic caster. I’ve never met another one.”

Seabury’s wide eyes and intrigued look were enough to make Alexander attempt to stutter out something resembling English when with a  _ slam _ and a grunt, heavy footsteps sounded out along the boards of the breezeway. “What is this all about?”

Alexander turned to face the second man, while Lafayette smiled and extended his arms to say, “Mr. Charles Lee. A pleasure.” Lee muttered back a handful of words that amounted to the same effect.

So this was Charles Lee, clearly the inhabitant of the second cabin. The first thing that struck Alexander was his looks -- while his eyes and stance reflected that of an older man, his face was as young as Lafayette’s and his hair was shaved in a sort of undercut and swept to one side. His wings were the next thing; Lafayette had mentioned there’d be a fairy, and clearly this was one, but where Lafayette’s wings were oval-shaped and tucked against his spine, Lee’s wings were sharp and angular, flicked up to instead point up and out from his body, as though he were ready to lift off at any moment.

Lee glanced over to Seabury, questioning, and the other man filled him in with a simple, “Alexander Hamilton’s newly moved here. Another magic user, too.” The way Seabury looked to him as he said that almost seemed to conceal a small smile. “I must say, Mr. Hamilton, this is quite an excitement- ah, perhaps we could all step inside?”

“Oh! Of course,” Alexander smiled back, anxiety draining. This he could handle. The four of them walked into Seabury’s home, Alexander trying to restrain his gawking. Now  _ this _ was quite the setup. There was still some semblance of a living space there -- an area walled off likely leading to sleeping quarters, and a cooking space that was at least reasonably clean. But much of the rest of the main room they were in was devoted to...spells.

For a guy who had only a couple of books, chalk, and a wand he’d made himself, Alexander couldn’t help but be impressed by Seabury’s setup. There were bookshelves lining one wall, and while most of them were filled with various boxes and decorations, there was a clear area cordoned off for...well,  _ books _ , as was typically expected of a bookshelf. Alexander squinted to read the titles, not recognizing many -- and a handful were clearly written in the language of magic, the language of the fae.

There was a sitting area, and Seabury muttered an apology for the scattered papers strewn across the center table. “I work in a career that requires a good bit of writing. By coincidence, living here gives me the space needed to hone my craft, although it also affords the peace and quiet to complete my work. A consequence of that is...the density of loose parchment I have lying about.”

“Oh, I understand,” Alexander snorted. “I was in clerical work for a time, and it was a nightmare keeping documents organized. I’m lucky enough to keep my own books and notes on magic organized as it is!” Lafayette let out a little huff of amusement.

Maybe Thomas was a lost cause, but this Seabury guy seemed alright.

* * *

_ Oh _ , how Alexander was wrong -- Seabury was a magic caster, yes, but he was a wizard, a completely different sort of spellcraft. And, as it happened, he did  _ not _ care for witches.

Samuel stared down at him with narrowed eyes, arms crossed. “Ah, I see now. You’re a witch.”

Alexander clenched his fists. “What does it matter the exact sort of magic caster I am? There’s hardly a difference between us, if you think about it.” There it was: the catch. He had been so elated to meet another magician. Turns out they were as distasteful of witches as the common man -- and among the magical sort, Lafayette and his friends (Jefferson discluded) were the exception.

“You’ll have to excuse my distaste, but wizardry is...about the  _ study _ of magic. It relies on pure words and emotion; a wizard’s spells are simple, distinct, forthright, and when I compose a series of them, it is refined and every outcome is planned.” Alexander rolled his eyes as Seabury blabbered on. “A  _ witch _ requires physical components. Sacrifices, runes written into the earth. Wizardry is about the knowledge of the world set into action, while witchery requires you reshape the world to fit your own twisted imagination!”

“That’s enough!” Lafayette snapped, flicking his wings open and stepping in front of Alexander, shoes clicking against the wooden floor -- just in time, as the witch had nervously moved his hand to his wand, tucked into his belt as it always was. The fairy stuck his chin in the air, a glare plastered to his face. “Our agreement to live in this community was that, petty arguments among individuals aside, we do not cause trouble. You are skirting dangerously close to that line by insulting Alexander’s very being here.” Before Alexander could contribute to his own defense, Lafayette placed a delicate hand on his shoulder. “Let us go now, little one.”

Samuel huffed and crossed his arms; Lee said nothing, instead staunchly looking the other way. To prevent any more shouting, in practically no time at all Lafayette was taking Alexander by the hand and pulling him outside, the two walking back the way they had come.

So much for Alexander’s hopes for that day, although truth be told, Lafayette  _ had _ said he wasn’t too fond of Lee. It wasn’t that much of a surprise that Samuel was just as bad. They’d hardly lasted two minutes speaking to each other.

Overhead, dark clouds had begun to roll in, casting the forest in a dim half-light. The temperature cooled, as well, and Alexander rubbed his arms in discomfort. “Lafayette-”

“That which I said, it goes for you as well,” the fairy interrupted him. “I understand you are skittish, and we are polite about it, but you cannot continue to be awful towards Thomas, or anyone else here, for a curse which they cannot control.”

Alexander bowed his head in embarrassment. “I know.”

* * *

John and Hercules were out late that night. Lafayette’s explanation was that Hercules was making a late shopping run into the nearby town (the very one Alexander had walked from after his encounter with a Mr. Aaron Burr), and John was off to check his traps for game; as such, it was unlikely they’d return home that evening at all, instead coming home the following day.

By the time Alexander was ready to retire for the night, though, the fairy had already gone off to bed -- a problem for the simple reason that, as Alexander quickly realized, he couldn’t figure out how to work the light by the bed in Hercules’ room. The man had made it look so easy to manipulate, and Alexander couldn’t fathom what he was missing, so in the end, he staggered about in the dark for where he’d set his wand down (the little window high up on the outer wall of the room didn’t provide much light), finally wrapping his fingers around it and whispering a single word in the language of magic:  _ “Light.” _

He clamped his wand between his teeth to hold it in place and knelt over his bag, rummaging through his things for his books. Hercules had been incredibly kind to offer space for Alexander to unpack into, but the witch was still hesitant to do so. He didn’t want to seem like he was taking the other men’s generosity for granted and overstaying his welcome, after all.

He didn’t have much to work with;  _ everything _ he knew of his craft came from a handful of dusty old books, and they alone still took up a good part of his bag. After pulling out his other belongings and setting them aside, he finally got to his books, flipping them over to read the labelled spines.

Had he read them before? Of course, each and every one. Had he skimmed portions that were less interesting or not relevant to his mastery level? Absolutely.

And as such, it was about time he refreshed himself on vampires.

_ Circle Magic and Rituals. _ He set that one aside. Circle magic was his area of expertise, in theory; it was the fundamental base to witchcraft: using runes (whether in the traditional sense, by drawing them with chalk on the ground or getting more creative and using paint or charcoal or even a stick dragging through the wet sand, or in the sense of engraving them into wood or other objects to enchant them). His best and worst spells had had their beginnings there.

The second book he pulled from his bag was titled  _ Symbology. _ The “other half” of Circle Magic, one could say. Symbology was simple, and more akin to a wizard’s magic -- but where a wizard (and now, the word left a bad taste in Alexander’s mouth) expressed his magic through his wand with a simple push of intent, a witch fought for such magic. Alexander had created his own wand, engraved it and enchanted it, and to use it, he had to draw a symbol in the air to call upon a spell, had to speak the right words to bring everything to life.

He set that book aside, too, continuing to dig through his bag until he finally found exactly what he was searching for:  _ Magics and Beings. _

Alexander, on some level, knew that witchcraft alone had many different subdivisions. He’d only heard vague mentions of poppets, brews and infusions, curses and dream weavings, and covens and familiars, but knew little on the subjects. What boggled his mind even further, though, were the sorts of magics he’d never gain power over -- such as the inherent abilities of the fae, and the dark powers of monstrous beings.

He flipped through the thick pages, trying to find anything relating to vampires. Admittedly, this had been the book he had skimmed the most, not for lack of interest, but simply not being able to see its use for the longest time. Nevis didn’t  _ have _ monsters! Even those rumored to lurk in the sea at night had seemed like a fairytale for the longest time -- it wasn’t until Alexander had set off in search of the forest that he had even paused to consider he’d ever come face to face with someone who was non-human, at which point he had solidly decided that he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

And, well...he’d come to it, lept over it, and was teetering on the other side, pinwheeling his arms and desperately trying not to plunge into the gorge below. He was going to respect Lafayette’s words and at least attempt not to be rude to Thomas, but the guy apparently had a vendetta against Alexander for being a witch, and...well, if Alexander at least knew what to  _ expect, _ maybe they could work things out.

He flipped through the sections of the book. Fae creatures, ranging from fairies to the changelings Lafayette had spoken of earlier. Humans blessed with powers, ranging from witches to wizards to druids.

And then, there were the cursed. Beings of all sorts infected with magic that twisted them, whether only destroying their bodies, or spreading to their minds as well. Alexander wasn’t well-versed in curses -- they were incredibly complex and difficult to inflict even temporarily, and creating any lasting effect often required a powerful coven. But those that were self-spreading like a disease, that twisted the mind _ and _ the soul at once...well, Alexander couldn’t imagine living out the rest of his life as a mindless werewolf or bloodthirsty (literally) vampire, or whatever other sort of zombification curse a deranged witch was able to conjure up.

He flipped through the pages until he finally came to rest on one titled “ _ Vampires.” _

And on he read.

* * *

The book didn’t have much to say on vampires at all, let alone what could be helpful for Alexander. In short, they were immortal creatures clinging to the last threads of their former lives, formed when a powerful vampire drained them nearly completely of blood and left them to die -- instead infusing them with a horrific curse and a burning desire to fill themselves with the blood they had been drained of unjustly. Despite that, the curse was difficult to spread in the first place: the curse was a finicky thing, and was difficult to spread with intent, let alone should the vampire in question not want a rival awakening from the dead. Vampires themselves typically gained power over time, feeding on human blood through the years to nourish themselves; they became inhumanly strong (easily able to overpower most humans, although other magical beings remained a threat), capable of flight, with heightened senses and minor magics. That wasn’t to say they were invulnerable -- they could be dismembered and killed like any other being, although they healed impossibly quickly if the job wasn’t done right. They were particularly vulnerable to fire: from the sun, or from the touch of a flame.

Alexander sighed, running one hand through his hair as he thought to himself. Jefferson was a vampire; that had been well-established. Problem was, he didn’t  _ match _ with what the book was saying. The man’s skin was dark, yes, but it wasn’t a tone of death; his appearance was warm and alive. He was clearly harmed by the sun, and healed quickly to match, but the sun only caused a quick burn, rather than the awful, immediate “burst-into-flames” the book implied. Honestly, if it weren’t for his teeth, the man’s charm alone ought to let him pass as a typical human quite well.

He just didn’t get it. What was he missing?

He sighed, shutting the book with one hand. Well, that was no help; that much was certain. Honestly, at this point? He’d managed to keep calm and polite around two fairies, a druid, a wizard, and whatever sort of magical heritage John and Hercules must have had. While Thomas clearly didn’t care for witches, the vampire hadn’t threatened him directly thus far -- although Alexander couldn’t help but wonder how exactly Thomas fed himself.

He rubbed at his temples. The solution was clear, wasn’t it? Just keep on ignoring the vampire. He wanted to live here, he really did, and not stirring up trouble was a prerequisite to that; he could contain himself. He  _ wanted _ to get along; he knew he had been rude to run out on Madison, and he had gotten along well enough with Thomas before their whole “situation” came out. His conversation with Seabury had ended the same way.

Having made up his mind, Alexander could only hope Thomas had come to a similar conclusion of “let’s not start a murder spree!” Letting out a frustrated little noise, he staggered out of bed and fumbled to put his books away, undressed down to his shirt, and collapsed under the covers for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alexander doesn't understand how everyone can remain peaceful and harmonious, especially when it feels like some of them hate him (or at the very least, dislike him) just for being a witch -- the same feelings he extends towards their local vampire (it just doesn't make sense! They're covering for a creature who's a killer by nature!).
> 
> That said, he's not a fool. This place may be unlike the world he's familiar with, and the forest is a lot different than what he expected (he was planning for a ruthless land he would fight his way through, having the space to practice powerful spells and escape from the world he knew -- not a little community living just outside a normal town where people freely practice their magic and try not to bug each other too much). But even if some other people are snide because of Alexander's chosen magic, he's at least not threatened with murder for revealing his powers, which is a step in the right direction.
> 
> A witch's magic differs from a wizard's in that wizardry works based on a series of spells. If a wizard wants to achieve something, he focuses on a single spell within him and pushes it into reality, then repeats as needed (although wizardry can extend to other areas of magic in general, such as enchanting or alchemy). That is to say, wizardry works on basic intent. A witch's magic relies more on physical components, writing out the steps/constraints of incredibly complex spells and channeling them through physical components -- hence their reputation for requiring blood sacrifices for their work.


	7. Relax

He was awoken the next morning by a commotion just outside; however, seeing as said commotion was more of the “making more noise than necessary while doing everyday things” ilk rather than the “please help, I’m dying” sort, he took his sweet time getting dressed, braiding his hair, and heading outside to see what was going on. Hercules must have gotten back sometime late in the night after Alexander had already gone off to bed, seeing as the man was quite unhappy with the noise himself, and Alexander left Hercules inside while the man regretfully pondered whether to get up or not.

Outside, he soon pinpointed the source of the noise: John heaving a wooden rack upright, having more problems due to it being unstable than however heavy it might have been. “Alexander! ‘Morning.”

Alexander gave him a nod, hands politely clasped behind his back. “What...what is all this?”

“Bagged a kill this morning,” John replied, nodding over to a deer carcass on the ground beside him whose legs had been tied for easier carrying, and was clearly dead, but not yet cleaned. “‘And if we’re being invited over for dinner, it’s only polite to bring them a little something.”

That made sense, he supposed, and while he still wasn’t totally on-board with the whole “dinner” idea, he wasn’t going to be outright rude ( _ especially _ not to a vampire! Or a fae, for that matter; weren’t their kind finicky like that?). “Ah. Do you...need any help with the rack?”

“I’d like some, yes,” John amicably hummed, motioning Alexander over. “The rack’s for hanging cuts later, but I wouldn’t trust it to hold an unprocessed carcass. That’s what this tree branch’s for!” He finished off with a laugh as he nodded towards a particularly thick and low-hanging tree branch a few feet away, hanging over an area cleared and tiled with stone set into the ground, blood stains dying the stones red.

Considering the reputation of where he was, Alexander had to admit that if he hadn’t known John was a hunter, he would have assumed the worst upon seeing that.

Once they at least had the rack mostly standing John pulled out a hunting knife and got to work, making good use of Alexander for fetch quests -- getting John a rag to wipe his hands, getting a bucket for the organs. Alexander was no stranger to butchering his own meat, but wasn’t much of a fan of taking care of large game, so he was happy to not be the one to get his hands bloody.

How funny was it that despite what Seabury and Thomas must have thought, Alexander certainly didn’t care for blood on his hands?

When John finished cleaning the deer, he motioned for Alexander to join him and get the deer strung up, explaining, “I’ll lift it up, I just want you to secure the rope holding it.”

“Are you sure?” Alexander asked, brow furrowed. “I’m sure Hercules would be happy to help you lift...”

Apparently John took that as a challenge, because he smoothly -- hardly even flexing! -- swept the deer up with one arm and grinned at Alexander’s expression of wide eyes and a slightly-open mouth.

Sweet Jesus, John was strong, and he didn’t even look it!

* * *

Alexander’s last fetch quest was to get some jars from inside. He took the opportunity to wildly wave his arms as he walked inside blabbering, acting as something of a wake up call for a tired Hercules who sat at the kitchen table. The man seemed a bit more down than normal, but seeing as he was always a mess in the mornings and would sit alone sipping his tea or coffee as he tried to wake up, Alexander paid him little mind, instead rambling on as he filled his arms with jars, “You didn’t see it, but John- he lifted that deer like it was nothing! And I understand he had already cleared out its innards, so it was lighter than normal -- I could probably haul one myself, I’d say -- but the thing was, he lifted it like a basket of apples; I just can’t believe it!”

Hercules, to his great credit, seemed to have tolerated Alexander’s blabbering for the most part, but could only suffer through so much before he finally snapped, “I don’t see why you’re so surprised. Of course he can lift so much. He could probably lift all three of us if he really desired to. I’ve heard him do worse before.”

Alexander blinked, for a moment almost losing his grip on the jars, before he asked, “What is that supposed to mean?”

But instead of a reply, Hercules just firsted his fingertips into his short hair in frustration, finally pushing his chair back and clambering to his feet. “If you two haven’t had the discussion yet then I don’t know what to tell you. This morning,  _ I’m _ certainly not going to be the one to break the news about John or myself or anyone here. Good day.”

And then he stormed out the front door. By the time Alexander caught up with him, he had disappeared.

* * *

Alexander dropped the jars off with John, noted that Hercules was in a poor mood (“He often is after going into town,” John had replied), then returned to the bedroom to poke through his books a bit. Finding that he couldn’t even concentrate enough to read them, he eventually just sighed and threw his bag over his shoulder. Hercules was mad, John was busy, and Lafayette was who-knows where. He wasn’t going to throw himself into prime “‘accidental’ death” territory by going to bug Seabury or Jefferson, either, so going for another walk it was. He wanted to find somewhere relaxing to study, in any case.

And, quite honestly, he himself needed to cool down for a bit. He was starting to lose his fears of running into the wrong individual, instead being more  _ frustrated. _ Apparently John and Hercules had to have a talk with him that he considered to be quite overdue, and that was ignoring whatever Hercules was currently upset about. At least Lafayette seemed to be his usual high-and-mighty-but-pleasant self.

So, Alexander left to clear his head, following the path back down towards James’ home but this time turning to go past it. He hadn’t yet gotten the opportunity to continue down the trail; and as such, he may as well go today. He’d have a good talk with the others soon enough (although that sort of soon could be as early as tomorrow, or a week later. They did have a dinner night coming up, in any case).

He paused when he reached the part of the trail that dipped nearest to where James and Thomas lived. Not seeing anyone outside, he continued onwards, not that he had been planning to stop in the first place.

After some time, the trail sloped gently upwards just a bit, then circled around the edges of a small gap in the trees. It was so small that he hesitated to call it a clearing, but the branches and mountain laurel bushes thickened around it enough that he almost missed the open space for another part of the underbrush. Against what was probably his better judgement, he pushed a few of the low-hanging branches aside and stepped off the trail into the clearing, to his surprise finding flat, smooth stone under his feet, although it was overtaken by soil and moss on the edges.

Several massive trees surrounded the small space, although when Alexander tipped his head back to look at the sky, he saw that the branches parted for the sun. On the ground, a few other boulders filled the edges of the clearing where the bushes didn’t quite suffice, and seeing as he wasn’t so inclined to sit on the ground, Alexander tentatively took a seat on one of them, finding the rocks smooth.

It was so calm over here. Secluded enough from the trail that he doubted he’d be disturbed by anyone passing through, if much of anyone even came this way. Birds chirped in the background, and a light breeze picked up through the branches.

What a nice place. Seeing no one around, Alexander sighed and leaned back to get out of the sun, pulled a book from his bag, and sat down to study.

* * *

He must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because when he woke up later, the sun had already begun to set, the sky’s deep blue beginning to pale into a faint orange. His hair had also fallen out of its queue, though as he ran his fingers through his hair to brush out the snarls before fixing his tie, a little blue flower fell from where it must have been caught in his hair. Electing not to overthink it (which was quite a feat for him), he idly tied it back once more while sitting up, hunting down where his book had fallen out of his grip. Throwing it back in his bag, he heaved it all over one shoulder and moved to head back to the house.

Right as he was about to leave the clearing, he stepped on something metallic. Confused, he bent down to pick it up -- finding a little button in the dirt. Brushing it off, he blew over the back once to try and clean it before he set it down on the stone he had been sitting on. He knew he’d hate to lose a button, expensive as they were and frustrating to find missing. Maybe it’s owner would return soon to find it.

Adjusting the strap of his bag, he took one last look back at the clearing before he turned and headed home, feeling significantly emotionally better than he had earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say about this chapter; it's just a short and sweet setup for later events. :) Things will be picking up come next chapter with the long-awaited dinner party.

**Author's Note:**

> Because this fic is set more to be a loose collection of one shots, don’t be afraid to comment predictions, suggestions, or requests for later chapters! Or honestly, comment anything at all -- user interaction makes my day!
> 
> Don't forget to check out [this AU's ask blog over here!](http://ask-hamilton-fantasy.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> If you have art requests, questions, prompts, or just wanna chat with me, find me on [this account](https://beeshavethrees.tumblr.com)! I'm always happy to talk and interact with others.


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